


Outcasts

by xxMad_Donaxx



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Eventual Fluff, Binge Drinking, Drunk!Alistair, Exchanging Sex For Alcohol, M/M, dubcon elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxMad_Donaxx/pseuds/xxMad_Donaxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Banished from Ferelden, Alistair spends a good bit of his time trying to forget his homeland and what happened there. He turns to drink to help him, offering his body in lieu of coin. One drunk night he follows Anders home and keeps running into him afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alistair groaned and blinked. He was actually lying, stretched out on something sort of soft. There was an actual blanket over him and upon inspection he was only wearing his small clothes. It was much better than waking curled up on the ground surrounded by various bodily fluids but he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d promised and to whom. He sat up slowly, the thin blanket falling to his waist and rubbed his bleary eyes.

“Thank the Maker,” a voice said from across the room. “I thought you were never going to wake up.”

The cheerfulness in that vaguely familiar tenor was a little obscene. Alistair winced as the owner of the voice drew nearer and the pounding in his head increased. “Loud,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” he said a bit quieter but with a smirk that made Alistair scowl.

The tall blonde sat on the edge of the cot he currently occupied and reached out with one hand. Alistair let his hands fall to his lap and let the man pull open his eyes. He shook his head briefly and with a hand to either side of his head suddenly his headache was manageable.

“You’re a mage?” Alistair asked curiously.

“Yes and since I was nice enough to keep you from being gutted after you’d passed out on the way here I’d appreciate a little candidness on that matter.”

“Of course,” said Alistair quickly. “So, refresh my memory. Where is here? And what do I owe you?”

“Darktown,” he said smiling. “An explanation would be nice.”

“I was drunk?” Alistair said trying to remember.

“Obviously,” he said with that same smirk.

Alistair sighed heavily and scrubbed his face again when he said nothing more. “The last thing I remember was drinking at some seedy tavern close to the docks.” He sighed again and turned over on his hands and knees, pushing the blanket away. “Let’s get this over with,” he said crossing his arms and burying his face.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the view but…what are you doing?”

He held in groan and sat up. Not being nearly drunk enough to suck this man off, Alistair hoped he could talk him into settling for his arse. “That’s the way it works usually,” he said striving for cheerful. “You get me drunk and in return you get to…I’ve got it wrong don’t I?”

The expression on his face turned from amusement to horror and he was across the room faster than Alistair would have thought possible. He pulled the blanket back up over his lap as he crossed his legs under him. “What did I promise you?”

“Nothing,” he said seriously. “You were already pretty drunk when I got there. I had some…business…and you stumbled out after me babbling on about something.”

“Ah…yes…” Alistair said. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “It’s your accent.”

“My accent?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Ferelden. I…can’t go back. Sometimes I just…” Alistair cleared his throat self-consciously and looked around the room so he wouldn’t see the pity that was starting to dominate his expression. “Anyway, thanks for dragging me home. If you’ll point me to my clothes I’ll just…get out of your hair.”

“Do you need somewhere to stay?” he asked softly. “I know someone who can help.”

“No, no, no,” Alistair said quickly. “I’ve got a nice alley. I’d really rather not go back in my small clothes though.”

Wordlessly the blonde stood and brought him a neatly folded pile of clothing. They had been washed and he murmured his thanks. Alistair dressed quickly and left with more assurances to the man that he was fine and a vow to himself to stay away from bars for a while. Only four days later he found himself seeking the oblivion only alcohol could provide.

With what little coin he’d managed to acquire he went to a semi-popular tavern in Lowtown. The ale was terrible but it would get him past remembering fairly quickly. As an added bonus this tavern was normally busy and it was usually easy to find someone willing to provide him with more. He’d discovered fairly early on the easiest way to get more booze was to offer someone less inebriated than he was the use of his body.

Since there were few women that frequented these sorts of establishments he’d gotten used being bent over barrels in storage rooms or up against the wall in an alley. Since that first rather horrible experience he’d grown to sort of enjoy a cock up his rear end but he didn’t like it when they insisted on using his mouth. He’d slowly learned how to get that over with quickly, even though he needed to be extremely drunk to agree to it.

Alistair wasn’t half as drunk as he needed to be at the moment but the two bottles of whisky sat on a barrel just out of reach. The bloke behind him wasn’t so bad. He’d be enjoying himself if it weren’t for the man in front of him. Steady grunts from behind accompanied each rapid thrust but the thick cock he was currently trying to avoid choking on moved ever so slowly.

After what seemed like an eternity the man came down his throat and Alistair struggled to swallow. Finally he was allowed to breathe, coughing while he studied the floor. He sagged to the ground when the other one finished and let go of his hips. The bottles were moved within his reach and Alistair tugged the cork and took several long swallows, watching the men exit the alley behind the tavern. Slowly he righted his clothing and settled against the wall with his prize.

The first bottle was gone and he was well on his way to passing out when the backdoor of the tavern opened. Instead of walking away like they normally did this one came closer. His white coat stood out in the gloom and Alistair smiled happily when the man knelt in front of him.

“It’s you,” he slurred excitedly. “Say something!”

“You’re a mess,” the man said flatly. “How often do you drink like this?”

He waved the question away unconcernedly and took a long pull from the bottle he had left. “Say,” he said thinking that it was too close to being empty. “Would you…buy me another? You could…you know…I’d really like it this time.”

“Andraste’s flaming knickers,” he muttered in exasperation. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Alistair asked as the man hauled him upright.

“Home.”

His arm was flung around the man’s neck and he shuffled forward a few steps with an arm around his waist. Alistair drained the last of his bottle and dropped it to the ground, leaning on him heavily.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done it in a bed before,” Alistair said slowly as he was half-carried out of the alley. “Does it…feel better? Normally I’m bent over something.”

“Maker’s breath,” the man said still sounding exasperated. “Do you always offer strangers sex for alcohol?”

“Only way to…get enough,” Alistair said sullenly. “Are we going to drink more? I’m not…quite…drunk enough.”

“No, I think you’ve had more than enough,” he said.

“But I haven’t passed out yet!” Alistair whined trying to pull away from him.

“You’re story must be worse than mine,” he said without letting go. “What on Thedas could bring a Warden so low?”

“How…how do you know that?” asked Alistair suspiciously trying to pull away again.

“Maybe you’ll figure it out in the morning,” he said with a stronger grip on his arm and his waist. “After you’ve slept this off. You’re getting a bath first though, Maker you reek.”

Alistair pouted but resigned himself to being manhandled. This mage was stronger than he looked and he was in no condition to do anything about it. He was hauled to Darktown and the man stripped him completely before helping him into a tub of warm water. Alistair would have been content to just sit there but the man attacked him with a rag and soap. Afterwards he was helped to a cot and he fell asleep quickly.

When he woke with his head throbbing and a sour stomach, Alistair pulled the thin blanket up to his chin and watched the activity around him for a while. There were people here this time. He watched the tall blonde move from one cot to the next, cleaning cuts, wrapping wounds and even healing a few of the bedraggled people that filled what had to be a clinic.

After setting a woman on her way the man wandered over casually and Alistair rolled to his back. He smiled and said cheerfully, “Do you remember me this time?”

“Yes,” Alistair replied grumpily.

“Have you figured it out yet?”

“Do the Templars know you’re here?” he asked instead of answering.

“Of course,” he replied frowning. “I’m surprised Hawke hasn’t led them here. I’d rather not discuss me if you don’t mind. There are easier ways to kill yourself you know.”

“I’d rather not talk about me either.”

“Fair enough I guess. Stay as long as you need to. I have some clothes for you that will fit when you’re ready to go.”

The man wandered away and Alistair watched him for a while longer. He couldn’t help wondering why this strange mage was being so nice. His last year in Ferelden had been about the worst he could remember and he didn’t really want to remember it. Losing Duncan then dealing with the blight afterwards, being banished from his home before the blight was even over; there was a lot he’d rather forget.

Of course he’d known Brosca was a complete bastard before the dwarf had even survived the joining. He had no idea what lengths the man would go to get what he wanted. Sparing Loghain had been the last straw. After a huge argument Alistair had been thrown out like so much rubbish with only a slightly sympathetic look from Leliana. He’d been mostly drunk ever since reaching Kirkwall, trying and mostly failing to forget.

Kindness was completely foreign to him and after a while he dressed under the blanket and slunk out before the blonde noticed. He tried to stay away from the bars, looked for a job while he rooted through trash for anything he could sell for food. No one hired Fereldens and his resolve to stay sober weakened quickly.

Alistair set off for the docks one night a few days later seeking oblivion. When he woke he was once more in the clinic, head pounding, stomach rolling, vision still blurry and feeling generally like he’d been trampled by a horde of ogres. He was sore all over but his arse hurt the worst by far with the exception of his pounding headache. There was a soothing murmur close by and something cool brushing his forehead. Alistair forced his eyes open a little more and saw the blonde mage turning away from him.

“Why do you keep bringing me here?” he croaked.

“Helping people is what I do,” the man said softly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t heal everything. It took all the mana I had left to repair what they’d done to your arse.”

“What happened?”

“I found you on the docks,” he said quietly brushing the wet rag down his cheek. “You were unconscious and…being used by several large dockhands.”

“Can’t remember,” Alistair muttered closing his eyes. “Who are you?”

“Anders.”

“Alistair.”

“Go back to sleep Alistair. We can talk in the morning.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Suicidal Thoughts (Sort of)

Hours had passed when Alistair next woke. He was still in Anders’ clinic, still felt like he’d been scraped from the bottom of a boot but completely unsure about what had woke him. As he looked around cautiously, not daring to move much, he saw that it was still dark but enough moonlight came through the high windows for him to see the mage thrashing in his sleep on a nearby cot.

He heard a low moan and the blonde rolled away as Alistair sat up, grimacing at the pain in his backside before standing. Unsteadily he made his way over to the other cot and stood over the mage, wondering if he could manage a Silence. That would interrupt the dream and any demons that were currently trying to feast on his nightmares. Anders groaned again and shivered but didn’t wake.

“Alistair you stupid sot,” he whispered suddenly touching Anders’ shoulder briefly. “You’re a Warden too.” He stroked down the man’s arm absently, disgusted with himself for not realizing earlier.

Anders murmured softly and settled after a moment. Alistair felt a bit like a lecher when he noticed he was still petting the mage. He snatched his hand back, cheeks heating as he turned and shuffled back to the cot he’d been lying on. Sitting gingerly on one hip, he considered fleeing the clinic before its proprietor woke.

Even though he couldn’t remember a thing beyond his second bottle he knew that he’d probably agreed to whatever those dockhands had wanted. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d woken with a sore bum and covered in spend. Despite the discussion they would no doubt be having in the morning Alistair settled back onto the cot, too sore and tired to care much. He pulled the blanket back over his, once again, naked body and stared at the mage before finally falling asleep again.

When he woke next he figured it to be at least mid-morning if not afternoon. Anders was towards the front of the large room and Alistair judged his chances of sneaking past fairly poor. He stretched noticing that he didn’t feel half as sore as he had last night. Alistair sat up cautiously, glad that that particular area of his body felt almost normal, and looked around for something to wear.

Anders glanced at him almost immediately and held up his hand in a ‘wait there’ gesture. Alistair sighed and stayed put, absently playing with the edge of the blanket. When the mage finished with his current patient he crossed the room and sat on the cot he’d slept on during the night.

“You’re clothing is on that crate behind you,” he said after they were alone.

Alistair turned and grabbed the pile that he hadn’t noticed. They had been washed again and he pulled them on quickly. “Are you sure you don’t want to have a go?” he said light-heartedly. “You seem to like relieving me of my clothes.”

“No thanks,” Anders replied tightly. “I know when to keep my dick in my pants no matter how good looking the other person is.”

He paused, wondering why Anders sounded slightly angry followed quickly by wondering whether or not he’d just been called handsome. Alistair sat to tie up his extremely worn boots, pushing both thoughts away, and sighed again. “I can’t remember much about last night,” he said quietly. “I know I agreed to whatever they were doing though.”

“I’m sure you did,” said Anders acerbically. “Whether you agreed or not ceased to matter the second you passed out. You can’t tell someone to stop when you’re unconscious. _You were bleeding._ ”

He gazed at his boots and remained silent. His drinking had been out of hand for a long time now and he knew that. There wasn’t much he could say to defend himself when a part of him kept hoping that he simply wouldn’t wake up next time.

Anders sighed heavily. His tone was calm when he spoke. “There’s a shop in Lowtown. Lirene’s Ferelden Imports. Go talk to her. She can help you find a place to stay and possibly help you find a job. I _know_ you have skills.”

“I haven’t held a sword in years,” Alistair said bitterly. “Probably stab myself with it.”

“Pick one up,” he pleaded. “Practice. There are plenty of decent paying positions for an accomplished swordsman. Even a Ferelden one. The Captain of the Guard is Ferelden I’ll bet she’d take you on.”

“Thanks for your concern,” said Alistair as he stood. “I…appreciate you…putting me back together.”

“Just…try to be a little more careful,” he said with a tiny concerned frown. His brows were pulled down and Anders stood, gripping his shoulder. “I might not be there next time.”

“I know how you keep finding me,” Alistair said quietly. “You should save your concern. I was thrown out. The bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to leave me in the Deep Roads.”

“Thrown out?” Anders said his eyes wide with shock. “I didn’t think…you’re definitely not a mage.”

“I guess I’m just special,” Alistair said turning away and striding for the door. “A royal bastard that no one cares about. Raised by dogs then sent away to the monastery. Trained to be a Templar for years. I should have died beside the only man who ever cared about me.”

“Templar? Alistair wait!” Anders called after him.

Alistair waved over his shoulder and continued out the door. When it was shut behind him he jogged away, hoping that bit of information would be enough to keep the mage away from him. He wasn’t entirely sure why Anders would care about a perfect stranger in the first place. Being a Warden surely had something to do with it as well as simple curiosity. Alistair definitely didn’t like the way his life was currently heading but he wasn’t about to pin his hopes on someone he barely knew only to be thrown away again.

After it was clear that he wasn’t being followed Alistair headed up to Lowtown and one of the Chantry’s soup kitchens, lost in thought. He spent that night curled up in his alley thinking about swords and what skills he might have to offer. Scavenging the day after that had led him back to the docks where he sat looking at his reflection in the murky water. He didn’t recognize the haggard man staring back at him. The hair was a bit too long, beard unkempt, dark smudges under his eyes and far more lines than he remembered.

With a heavy sigh he turned and leaned back against the building next to him with one foot dangling off the pier. He scrubbed his face wondering how much coin he’d managed to get, desperately wanting a drink. It wasn’t much considering his last go round had been only two days ago. That would mean he’d need to offer his arse before he’d even had one drink.

The thought didn’t bother him, he’d long ago been stripped of any shame he might have had at one point. There was a small nagging voice in his head however. One that kept repeating passionately, you were bleeding. After another heavy sigh he hauled himself up with a brief shake of his head. He took his finds and headed to Lowtown to look for the shop Anders had told him about.

***

Almost three weeks had passed before Alistair saw the inside of another bar since he’d last woken up in Anders’ clinic. Lirene was a slightly scary woman but she’d done exactly as the mage had said she would. He was living in one of the shanty towns in the Undercity and mined ore every day for an Orlesian at the Bone Pit.

The work was hard but he recognized the man staring back at him from the mirror now. A shave and a haircut had helped immensely but the dark smudges were gone at least. Muscles that had been flabby were starting to come back and he’d even resumed the Templar training. He didn’t expect to run into many mages but it was soothing. The coin wasn’t much but enough to keep himself fed. Alistair gave what he didn’t need to the other miners with families to support. The temptation to spend a night drinking was much easier to cope with if he didn’t have coin lying around.

He learned more of the Darktown healer during long nights spent with those women and children while their husbands had a pint. Alistair never explained even though he’d been teased unmercifully about it. Anders had arrived in Kirkwall several months after the archdemon had been killed. These people spoke of him with nothing but respect and awe. He’d saved a good many of them and took nothing for compensation.

Alistair had thought he’d seen Anders once or twice but the mage had been gone when he went to investigate. Anders hadn’t been anywhere near the front of his mind when he’d gotten back to Kirkwall today. There’d been an incident at the mine involving several large spiders that had spilled out of a freshly opened tunnel. Instincts he’d thought gone had taken over and he managed to kill a few of the spiders with his pickaxe and a barrel lid while the others fled.

The miners who had survived had been grateful but the big Ferelden who was often at the mine had berated him for a job half done. One pint to sooth frayed nerves had turned into far too many and he’d found himself inexplicably thinking of Anders while being pounded over a crate in a storeroom of a tavern he couldn’t remember the name of.

Later that same night in an alley beside a different tavern he wasn’t thinking of much besides the bottle that was just out of reach while he fervently sucked the cock of the man holding it. Later still he was very near oblivious as he rolled off the barrel he was draped over. He lay on the ground for a while, pants still around his knees and clutching the last bottle he would need tonight.

Alistair watched the smoky stars above, little more than fuzzy starbursts because he couldn’t focus on them, and finally passed out. He wasn’t at all surprised to be in Anders’ clinic when he woke. The mage was shaking his shoulders and patting his cheeks lightly. Still extremely hung-over he opened his eyes briefly and shut them again moments later.

“He’s not going anywhere for a while,” he heard Anders say when his hands disappeared. “Can you cover for him Jansen?”

“We’ll think of something healer,” Jansen said confidently. “He saved a bunch of us. I’ll never tease him about not drinking again.”

“Just stay out of Hawke’s way. I know he’s…”

The voices were getting further away and Alistair shut them out entirely, falling back asleep moments later.


	3. Chapter 3

Alistair opened his eyes slowly, finding Anders sitting on a stool next to the cot he lay on. The mage smiled and said softly, “Good afternoon.”

“You took my clothes again,” he replied slowly bring his hands up to scrub his face.

“You were only half in them when we finally found you,” Anders said. He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees and clasped his hands loosely between them.

“We?” Alistair groaned. “Maker’s Breath…Now the teasing will get worse.”

“Jansen and a few of the other miners told me what happened,” he said mildly. “They won’t tease you about this. Hawke is a prick. You shouldn’t take anything he says to heart.”

“Hawke…is he that big Ferelden? Dark hair, beady little eyes, always looks like he stepped in nug shit?”

Anders chuckled and nodded. “I helped him a while back but we don’t…associate…anymore.”

“I wasn’t expecting praise,” Alistair said bitterly turning his gaze to the high ceiling. “A little gratitude maybe but not…” He sighed and clenched his hands into fists on top of the blanket.

“Did he remind you a little too much of Warden Commander Brosca?” Anders asked gently as he set a hand softly on top of his.

“Yes,” Alistair replied sullenly. “There’s no excuse. I knew I shouldn’t…wait.” His gaze snapped back to the mage only to find him studying the floor. “You knew Brosca?”

“I was conscripted by him,” Anders said coaxing his fist open. “You’re last name wouldn’t happen to be Theirin would it?”

“It would,” he said cautiously. “You’ve…heard of me?”

“More from Oghren than the Commander,” Anders said rubbing a thumb across his knuckles.

Alistair twisted his wrist and caught his hand in a gentle grip. Their eyes met and he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling either but it didn’t feel awkward until Anders cleared his throat and pulled out of his grasp.

“I’ll get your clothes off the line,” said Anders after a moment of silence. “We can talk when you’re dressed.”

“You could undress,” Alistair said softly. Anders stopped halfway to his feet and turned a surprised look on him. “Or we could just forget I said that.” He turned his head away knowing he was flushed crimson from embarrassment.

Fingers were slowly turning his head back around and he found Anders with that same strange look from moments ago. “Are you serious this time?” he asked quietly his fingers resting lightly on his cheek.

“I can’t imagine why you keep doing this,” Alistair said. “I’m…a drunk. I sell myself for booze. And yet…”

“The first time I simply wanted to know why you were following me and if I needed to start worrying. After that…curiosity…I wanted to help.”

“I might be beyond help.”

“If this has been going on for as long as I think it has, you’re doing very well. Don’t get discouraged.” Anders smiled reassuringly and stroked along his cheek. “I like the new look.”

“Thanks,” he murmured sheepishly.

His smile widened and with a light brush to his chin, Anders stood and moved to the back of the room. Alistair exhaled noisily and scrubbed his face again wondering just what in the void he was doing. Flirting badly with a man who’d seen him stumbling drunk at least once and completely passed out three times was probably not one of his better ideas. That Anders seemed to be open to the attention he found a bit puzzling. Alistair sat up cautiously and watched the mage pull his clothes down from lines strung between the support pillars in the large room.

“Before we go any further there’s something that we have to discuss,” Anders said seriously.

“Technically I’m not a Templar,” Alistair said quickly. “I was conscripted before taking the vows or being…addicted to lyrium. I can still use the abilities though…I think.”

“I’d wondered about that,” said Anders turning with an armful of clothing. “That’s not what I want to talk about though.”

“Ah…” he said flatly. “So...what then?”

“I’m possessed by a spirit of justice.”

“An…abomination…” Alistair wasn’t sure if he should be horrified or furious that the mage would joke about something so grave. Anders certainly looked serious but he hadn’t shown any of the typical signs of demonic possession. He chose caution instead of either initial emotion. “I was at the Tower with Brosca when he annulled it. I’ve seen and killed dozens of abominations.”

“He’s not a demon,” Anders said defensively. “Justice was trapped outside the Fade in the corpse of a Grey Warden.” He sighed heavily and stepped forward holding out the bundle of cloth. “Here, let me explain before you run off.”

Alistair took the bundle and Anders retreated to a cot across the room. He began speaking almost reluctantly at first of a place called Blackmarsh and what had happened there. Alistair dressed slowly listening intently. Anders gazed at the floor when he pushed the blanket aside to pull on his small clothes and trousers. Sitting on the cot to pull his boots on he listened silently while Anders finished. He was still studying the floor, his hands clasped tightly together.

Silence descended and Alistair thought about all he’d said and decided that it didn’t matter much. He stood, crossed the room and sat next to Anders on the cot. “It’s…disturbing,” he said after a moment. “But…I doubt you’d have bothered with me if there weren’t still some humanity left inside.”

Anders looked over at him, a tiny frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “That’s…not what I expected,” said Anders slowly as his brows pulled down in confusion. “Especially from a Templar.”

“Almost a Templar,” Alistair said scooting a bit closer. “Demons generally aren’t into being kind. You’ve helped…when no one else cared.”

“Pinch me,” Anders said shaking his head vigorously. “I must be dreaming. You should be running for the door.”

“I could if you really want me to,” he replied with a shrug. “I don’t think my headache would like that very much though.” Anders laughed and leaned over, shoulder to shoulder, a hand squeezing his knee and Alistair was now a little nervous. “Are you hungry? I have…some food. Maybe not enough for two hungry Wardens but I’m not all that hungry. That reminds me. Do I still have a job?”

“I’m sure you do,” Anders said smiling as he stood. “Jansen said they would make sure you wouldn’t be missed today.”

“That’s good,” Alistair sighed in relief. He stood and continued nervously. “So, would you like to…come over? We could…talk or…do something else.”

“Are you still trying to get me out of my clothes?” he asked with an amused smirk.

“Sort of,” said Alistair sheepishly. “You keep telling me no. I’m used to being yanked away when I offer my arse. Apparently I’ve become a bit of a slut.”

“I got the impression from Oghren that you were more than a little…inexperienced.”

“I was before I ended up here. When you’re desperate with no coin…”

“I’d love to come over and talk,” Anders said turning for the door. “I think I’ll keep my clothes today but keep trying.”

Alistair watched him walk a few steps away then hurried to catch up, thinking that he was actually looking forward to something for the first time in years.


	4. Chapter 4

Nearly five weeks had passed since that first conversation they had in his shack. Alistair began spending some of his free time with Anders in the clinic and the mage also began spending time in his run down home. Their conversations began with their experiences with the Wardens and had begun expanding to sharing their pasts before and beyond the Wardens. He still spent time with the women and children but he hadn’t been teased about it once.

Alistair still mined at the Bone Pit but he avoided Hawke as much as possible hoping to avoid another episode. He discovered that he didn’t need to be depressed or anxious about something for the urge to drink himself into a stupor to be overwhelming. Only two weeks after his last binge he gave in again. A group of his friends from the mine had coaxed him to the clinic before he blacked out. Alistair spent that night lamenting his weakness while Anders reassured him that he was still doing fine.

Life had gone on in its now pleasant routine. Alistair began taking a bit of his extra coin and took Anders as much food as he could get with it. He wasn’t at all sure what the mage lived on but his apatite was as voracious as any Warden’s. Anders usually smiled when he walked through the door but the first time he’d brought a food basket Alistair had received a kiss.

His attempts at relieving Anders of his clothing had been half-hearted before that kiss. Afterwards Alistair had been inspired to try harder. So far the most he’d accomplished was a bare chest one recent night that had led to more kissing and left him extremely stiff and curious about the many scars that lined the mage’s back. Anders didn’t seem to want to talk about them but didn’t mind Alistair exploring them.

Despite the boring pleasantness of the last few weeks Alistair had come back to Kirkwall with a powerful urge to get roaring drunk. He had hurried to Darktown and had spent most of the night distracting himself with the children. After they had been tucked into bed he’d retreated to his shack and paced the length of it for a while. He ended up sitting on his pallet with his eyes tightly shut whispering random verses from the Chant of Light and that’s how Anders found him.

“Alistair?”

He opened his eyes to see the curtain that led outside falling back into place. Anders stood hunched over a little just inside, a wisp bobbing over his shoulder. Alistair smiled, small and a little strained, as he gestured for him to sit.

“Are you all right?” Anders asked his voice heavy with concern.

“I’m not up there,” he replied shakily. “That’s good…right?”

Anders took a few steps into the small room and knelt in front of him, setting his staff aside. “Very good,” he said warmly. The wisp bobbed rapidly a few times, as if nodding in agreement, and began circling around them both. “Did something happen?”

“Hubert’s pushing us pretty hard. Some of the shipments keep coming up missing and Hawke’s been grumpier than a dragon with a sore foot.”

“I’ll see if I can find out what has Hawke’s feathers ruffled. You just keep avoiding him.”

“I do. Jansen deals with him most of the time. I’ve caught him scowling at me a few times though.”

“Maybe he’s jealous,” Anders said with a playful smirk. A hand moved from where they were on his lap to trace lightly up one muscled arm. “All this hard work has been good for you.”

“I doubt that,” said Alistair grinning as he tentatively reached for the buckles of his coat. “Could I talk you out of your shirt?”

“Can I talk you out of yours? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you without it.”

Alistair answered by sweeping it off. In the weak light of the wisp he could see a hungry sort of look before his face went blank. He recognized this from spending quite a lot of time with the mage as having a discussion with the spirit also inhabiting his body. Alistair hoped this one would end in his favor as he was suddenly very aroused. Anders smiled moments later and darted forward. Their lips met with a click of teeth, tongue probing, in a demanding kiss.

Hands explored his chest as he surrendered to the surprising attention. Along his collarbones, down through the hair to his nipples, Alistair was pushed gently backwards. He grunted as he landed, Anders moving to straddle him as he straightened his legs. Sitting on his thighs Anders quickly removed his coat and shirt.

The wisp was now flying in lazy circles at the top of the room. When his chest was free of clothing as well, the mage flicked a small fireball at the makeshift fireplace. The wood caught immediately and he waved his other hand and the wisp disappeared. Anders leaned over and caught his lips again, leading him through a slower kiss before sucking on his bottom lip as he pulled away.

Alistair wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands and they had settled on Anders’ thighs close to his knees. Anders caught them as he sat up straight and pulled them further up as he said in a low voice, “Mind if I spend the night?”

“Not at all,” he replied a little nervously. His hands where now very close to the only cock he’d actually wanted up his arse for weeks now. “Still not a bed really but better than being draped over a barrel.” Cautiously he reached for the laces of Anders’ trousers and met no resistance. “Do you have any idea how much wanking I’ve been doing lately?”

“What do you think about?” Anders asked running his fingers lightly over his forearms.

“You,” said Alistair as he pulled the fabric loose. Anders wasn’t quite as stiff as he was but his hips rolled a little into his hand as he palmed the mage’s cock through his small clothes. “Usually in your clinic…me up against the wall or…bent over one of the cots…you behind me…this…”

Anders smirked as he leaned over, his hands sliding up Alistair’s arms to rest on the ground just above his shoulders. His hands moved to grip the mage’s hips and he moaned softly as their still clothed cocks rubbed together. Thought broke down altogether as Anders leaned further, catching him in a lazy kiss. The mage hummed as he pulled away, his hands sliding over his shoulders and coming to rest on his chest.

“Have you ever considered doing that the other way around?” said Anders. His voice was husky and his hands continued down over Alistair’s slightly chubby belly to the waistband of his trousers.

“Umm…other way around,” he said trying to make his brain work. “I’ve never actually done it the other way around…ever…”

“Not even with a woman?” Anders said in shock. His hands froze in the act of pulling the laces loose and Alistair squirmed uncomfortably beneath him.

“Not even with a woman,” said Alistair self-consciously. “I’d probably still be a virgin if I hadn’t been so desperate.”

“It’s a good thing you’re a Warden,” Anders chuckled after a brief shake of his head. “You aren’t going to last very long.”

“You mean…you want me to…oh… _oh_! Will we do it the other way too? The first time was completely dreadful but it feels really good now.”

“Not tonight,” said Anders. He smiled as he finished untying his trousers and scooted backwards pulling them and his small clothes down as he went. “I want this.”

Alistair gasped as the mage leaned over and licked up the length of his cock. He swallowed hard as Anders settled comfortably between his legs. Staring down his body, Anders grinned wickedly as he gripped the base. Alistair’s head thumped back to the ground after the end of his cock disappeared into his mouth. He clenched his hands, feeling his tongue sliding over the surface.

“You…don’t have to…do that...” Alistair gasped out. “Oh…oh…Maker…”

His brain ceased to function again as Anders sunk a bit lower. Alistair moaned and grabbed fistfuls of the blanket underneath him as he squeezed his eyes shut and fought to keep from thrusting into the inviting wetness surrounding his dick. It didn’t take long for Alistair to spend himself, Anders sucking on the tip until he had swallowed every drop.

“Why don’t I have to do that?” Anders asked when he finally released Alistair’s cock.

“Because I don’t like doing it,” he said rising up on his elbows. “I think I understand the appeal now though.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” said Anders warmly. He finished pulling off Alistair’s clothes and tossed them aside before ridding himself of his own pants and small clothes. “Switch with me.” He smirked when Alistair didn’t move, too busy taking in his lean body. Anders squeezed into the small space next to him and pushed his shoulder gently. “Switch with me.”

“Sorry,” Alistair said as he scooted over and sat up next to him.

“Down there on your knees,” Anders said gesturing with one hand while the other pushed the top blanket aside.

Alistair shuffled over and sat on his feet between Anders’ upraised knees. “How is this going to work?”

“First I want you to stretch me out with your fingers,” Anders said wiggling a bit closer to him. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this. Give me your hand.”

He held out his hand, a little puzzled by the order. A slick substance appeared and Alistair grinned. “That’s convenient.”

“There are a few benefits to being a mage,” said Anders with a smirk. He lifted his legs and held them behind his knees. “Maybe I’ll show you a few more later.”

Feeling a little nervous, Alistair stroked his cock a few times and rubbed the excess around the dark pucker of Anders’ entrance. Slowly he pushed a finger through wondering what he was supposed to be doing. No one had ever bothered with fingers when they fucked him. Most times he was lucky to have something other than spit to ease the passage. Anders clenched around his finger and he paused. When the mage relaxed again he pushed in further. Alistair watched him, liking his facial expressions.

“Another,” Anders said softly after a while.

Alistair cautiously pushed another finger inside. Anders gasped softly and moved to take his fingers deeper. With his other hand Alistair began stroking his balls, rolling and tugging gently, trying to hear that soft gasp again. While Anders made very little noise, it was clear Alistair was doing something right. His eyes fluttered shut, mouth opening and closing, arse moving to meet him. He breathlessly asked for a third finger and Anders was panting by the time he finally said he was ready.

He was still a bit nervous when he lined up his cock and slowly pushed in. Alistair stopped when they were flush, listening to a very soft moan from the man underneath him. Anders finally let go of his legs, draping them over his thighs. He grunted as the mage’s already tight passage clenched around him. Hands tugged him forward, a whispered command to move, and Alistair followed orders. His moans were muffled by kisses. Legs wrapped around his waist, Anders moving with him, their bodies meeting with every thrust.

Thinking became impossible yet again as tension coiled. They exchanged sloppy but enthusiastic kisses, Anders gasping quietly while Alistair moaned loudly in between. Slow and steady gave way to fast and hard. Pleasure exploded and his rhythm stuttered to a stop. Anders sighed contentedly underneath him, smiling as Alistair sat up. He collapsed off to the side, waiting until the mage had finished cleaning himself up with a pair of small clothes. His eyes drifted shut as the blanket was pulled over them. Alistair snuggled close to him, falling into a happy sated slumber almost immediately.


	5. Chapter 5

“Al! What are you doing? Al it’s almost…oh. Beg your pardon healer. Didn’t realize Al had company last night.”

“He’ll be out in a minute Jansen,” Anders said sleepily.

“Don’t wanna,” Alistair slurred sleepily as he pulled the mage’s warm body closer to him.

“I’d love to be lazy,” said Anders softly as he turned around to face him. “We both have work to do though.”

“Just a few more minutes,” he said hooking his leg over Anders’ and pressed them together.

“That will take more than a few minutes,” Anders murmured. After a soft kiss and a squeeze to his arse Anders flung the blanket off of them both. “You don’t want to be late.”

“I suppose,” Alistair sighed reluctantly.

They dressed quickly in silence and Alistair was glad there didn’t seem to be any awkward morning after jitters. Anders seemed just as comfortable with him now as he always had been. He grabbed a chunk of bread and the last edible apple from his carefully hoarded stash. Some dried fruit and jerky went into his pockets and they left his shack with Anders leading. When they were outside Anders turned and Alistair was surprised by a kiss with a generous amount of tongue. He barely registered the hoots and cat calls of his friends standing in a group not far away.

“Come by the clinic when you get back,” Anders said softly when he finally pulled away.

Alistair nodded silently as he panted. Anders smiled as he turned and walked slowly away. He grinned and turned towards the others remembering why he’d grabbed the apple. “Anders!” he called out taking a few steps closer to his retreating figure. He tossed the apple when the mage turned and he caught it easily.

“Thanks,” Anders called back, turning it over a few times before smiling as he began walking away again.

For the rest of that day and most of the next Alistair endured the good-natured elbows to his ribs. Over the next few weeks he was happy to discover that not much had changed between them. He still went to the clinic, often with a basket of food, and Anders still dropped by his shack as often as he had before. There was a good deal more kissing than before as well as the odd tumble but mostly they still just spoke.

He found himself looking forward to his time spent with Anders more than he had before. Alistair was positive he was falling in love but hesitated to say anything to the mage. Anders had given him a few signs, lingering looks, gentle caresses, sad smiles caught from the corner of his eye. He didn’t trust his own motivations. Were the feelings genuine or had he only become infatuated with the first person to show him any sort of kindness since Duncan had conscripted him.

The only way he could think of to test his feelings was to avoid Anders when his impulse to drink was strong. He began staying at home, often sitting on his pallet reciting the Chant of Light. If the mage happened to show up he welcomed the company but he didn’t seek him out like he wanted to. So far he’d managed to stay out of the taverns but sometimes the desire to drink was hard to resist.

The shipments of ore from the Bone Pit were still disappearing and both Hubert and Hawke weren’t very happy about it. Hubert continued to drive the miners hard. Twice more unsavory creatures had poured out of newly opened tunnels and both times Alistair had fought them instinctively. Hawke had yelled at him both times for retreating when the others had escaped. The first time he had spent the night in the clinic, unwilling to take a chance on his weak willpower. The second time he’d gone to Anders as well, this time spending half of the night ranting about his ungrateful boss and the other moaning into a pillow while the mage plowed into him forcefully.

The next two weeks had been blessedly uneventful. Alistair sat with the others on his shift outside the mine listening to them talk while they ate lunch. He heard Hawke before he saw him, full plate was noisy. Turning back to his meal with an irritated frown, Alistair hoped he would leave quickly. There had been more scowls and glares from his unpleasant boss lately. A shadow fell over him and Alistair hunched a little, extremely unhappy when it didn’t pass him by.

“You were at Ostagar,” Hawke said accusingly from behind him when everyone else had fallen silent.

“So were a lot of others,” Alistair said tersely without looking around. “A lot of good men and women who died.”

“Why aren’t _you_ dead Grey Warden,” he demanded.

There were quiet murmurs from the others around him and Alistair’s frown deepened. “A big bird decided I looked tasty and swooped away with me. She must not have been too hungry though. Didn’t even have a small nibble.”

“I should turn you in,” Hawke snorted derisively. “You betrayed those good men and women, let the darkspawn destroy my home.”

“ _Loghain_ betrayed all of us,” Alistair said venomously as he shot to his feet. His hands clenched into fists as he turned, now nose to nose with the furious warrior. “How did you survive?” he asked softly. “Did you run off before the fighting even started? Did you wet yourself and flee in terror? Brosca might be interested to find a deserter.”

Hawke’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned to a grim line. “Are you threatening me?”

“Absolutely,” Alistair growled. “I’m just trying to get by in a city that hates me. Perhaps it’s in your best interests to leave me be.”

Fury flashed in his eyes and Alistair was positive the man would cut him in half with the large sword he carried around. Instead Hawke shoved him backwards and he just managed to avoid falling on his arse. The warrior’s lips curled up in a sneer and his voice was heavy with contempt. “They probably don’t care about a drunken whore anyway.”

Seething he watched Hawke stalk away, a familiar group of people following in his wake. The others were quiet as he sat and after they were back in the mine chipping away at the rock. There were a few tentative questions on the way back to Kirkwall but Alistair politely refused to answer them. He supposed he’d have to answer their questions sooner or later but he’d do it when he wasn’t still furious. His only goal at the moment was getting to the clinic and avoiding any taverns on the way.

When he was close to Anders he became extremely disturbed. He could hear an inhuman voice along with the sounds of fighting. He broke into a run, dread settling in his gut at the pile of dead Templars outside the doors. Pausing only to grab a loose shield and sword on his way by Alistair was shocked by what he saw.

The clinic was a mess, cots broken, bandages and herbs scattered everywhere among more bodies. Anders had been backed into a corner, glowing blue from cracks in his skin. His eyes, normally a warm brown, had turned completely blue. He shouted in that deep voice as he flung spells, resorting to his staff when one of the Templars silenced him, but going back to magic after a frighteningly short amount of time.

Alistair waded in with a roar after he’d shook off his shocked paralysis, bringing their attention to him. One of the remaining Templars fell quickly to surprise. The three others also fell after a short but vicious fight through combined efforts of steel and magic. Alistair was breathing hard and bleeding from several wounds as he turned cautiously to Anders. The mage was still glowing, his arms raised in casting a spell that was more than likely going to be directed at him since he was the only other person left standing. Without thought Alistair brought his borrowed shield up, his other hand rose to his temple and he silenced the mage. With a wordless snarl Anders charged him.

“Anders!” Alistair yelled as the staff clanged off the shield. “It’s Alistair! Anders!”

The mage growled and continued his assault. Alistair blocked and parried, yelling anything he could think of that might get through to Anders. He had been backed into the opposite corner and in pure desperation he unleashed a smite. Anders staggered back and Alistair rushed forward, using his shield to topple the mage backwards. He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, as he watched the glow finally dissipate.

“Maker’s Breath,” he muttered dropping the weapons. Alistair knelt next to him, relieved that he was merely unconscious, before he was flooded with horror. “Shit…what have I done? He’s going to hate me…”

After a moments deliberation he struggled to get Anders over his shoulder, grabbing his staff as he stood. Slowly he made his way home, the streets of Darktown strangely deserted. He wasn’t quite mobbed when he finally arrived but everyone looked concerned. He answered a few questions as Anders was laid out carefully on his pallet. Jansen’s wife settled next to him, loosening his coat and removing his boots. Alistair stood and watched as she fussed; knowing Anders would be safe in their care. He left his shack and headed for the nearest set of stairs for Lowtown.

“Al, are you all right?” Jansen said hurrying after him. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” he said without stopping or turning.

“Where are you going? He’s not hurt that bad. Al! Al!”

He broke into a run despite how tired he was. All he wanted was a drink. Maybe it wouldn’t matter so much now that Anders would likely hate him.


	6. Chapter 6

Alistair woke by increments, becoming slowly aware of the world around him. The perpetual darkness of the Undercity, his slightly scratchy blanket, a familiar body curled up next to him. He remembered enough of the previous day to be shocked that he was at home instead of the bar or alley he’d passed out in, enough to be puzzled by Anders’ presence. Flexing his hands he discovered the index and middle finger of his right hand were bound together with something stiff that prevented them from bending. Something had been wrapped tightly around his chest, bandages on his arms as well as the lower half of his left leg. Alistair hurt all over.

“Sweet mother of Andraste,” he croaked in a hoarse whisper. “What in blazes did I do?”

“Tried to commit suicide by picking a fight with Hawke while you were completely drunk,” Anders said flatly in a soft whisper. “How much do you remember?”

“Enough,” said Alistair turning his head slightly to see him. His eyes were open, staring through him with dark circles under them. He looked utterly exhausted.

“I remember…screaming at him to stop…please don’t do this again but…I was helpless…I…forgive me.” Anders suddenly pressed a palm to his forehead and Alistair could no longer keep his eyes open.

The next time he woke it was sudden. Light from a fire flickered in the small room casting strange shadows on the walls. Alistair looked around cautiously and saw Anders sitting on the opposite side of the room. His knees were pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, his face hidden by his knees. Anders hair was loose, the clothes he wore were too big for his lanky frame, his feet bare. Alistair tried to sit up discovering that he was still in a good deal of pain. Anders’ head jerked up immediately.

“Please don’t,” Anders said his voice thick with worry. “You might reopen the wound.”

Alistair settled back down and watched Anders slowly unfurl. He crawled over, dragging a water skin with him.

“Which one?” Alistair asked turning his gaze to the ceiling. “I don’t remember seeing Hawke last night.”

“The one that very nearly killed you,” Anders said touching his side briefly as he settled on his knees beside him. “I’d ask what you were thinking but you clearly weren’t.”

His face was a blank mask as he gently lifted Alistair’s head. The water skin was put to his lips and he swallowed reflexively. Before he could utter a word Anders’ palm was pressed to his forehead again. The mask cracked and Anders’ anguished expression followed him in his sleep. The mage was curled up next to him again when he woke next. He was asleep this time, muttering something in a desperate inaudible whisper. His hands were clenched into tight fists and his body rigid.

Alistair closed his eyes and concentrated, silencing the mage. His eyes fluttered for a moment but remained shut. Gradually he relaxed, his fists unfurling, features smoothing out, breathing now deep and even. Alistair brought his right hand out from under the blanket and carefully brushed locks of hair out of Anders’ eyes. He wondered what had happened, why the mage was still here, how he could possibly stand to be around him. There would be no answers until he could get the man to stop putting him asleep.

He lay awake for a while listening to the man next to him. Eventually he fell back asleep waking when he felt gentle tugging at the bandage wrapped around his chest. The blanket was pulled down to his waist, left arm laid out straight beside the kneeling mage. Anders was hunched over, concentrating deeply, with a knife carefully cutting through the bandage. A wisp floated near, still until Anders was done with the knife. It bobbed rapidly for a few seconds then stilled again. Anders glanced at it then up at him.

“Don’t move,” he commanded quietly turning back to his side.

Fingers probed gently at a wound he could feel but hadn’t seen. Alistair hissed but remained as still as he could, sighing in relief when they disappeared. A brief burst of healing and Anders straightened.

“It’s healing nicely,” Anders said tiredly. “I need to rewrap it.”

“Why are you still here?” Alistair asked through gritted teeth as Anders helped him to sit.

“It’s my fault,” he replied bitterly.

“How is it your fault I’m a stupid ass?” Alistair snapped irritably. “You shouldn’t care. You should have left me to die. I’m just another bloody Templar.”

“I do care,” Anders growled angrily. “I’ve cared too much for a long time.”

“Don’t say that,” he whispered dejectedly. “I…”

“Hush,” he interrupted. “Let me finish this.”

Anders wrapped a fresh bandage around his chest in silence. Alistair was carefully laid back down and the mage retreated to the other side of the room.

“None of this is your fault,” Alistair sighed after a while.

“What were you supposed to do Alistair?” asked Anders softly. “Let him…me…kill you? I never told you why Hawke cut ties with me. Maybe I should have. I never should have let things go this far.”

“Let what go so far?”

“Us. Maybe Varric wouldn’t have had to drag you back down here half dead. Maybe you wouldn’t have felt the need to confront Hawke in the first place.”

“I’m very confused,” sighed Alistair. “Let me start and you can finish. I brought you here, unconscious. A state that I inflicted upon you. I felt horribly guilty about it. I still do. Positive that you would leave when you woke, I left first to get shitfaced. I began at a dive on the docks, sucked off some men and things get fuzzy after about the fourth bottle.”

“Jansen rounded up a few of the others and went after you. Apparently you led them on a merry chase. They didn’t find you until after you’d thrown yourself at Hawke. Varric, the dwarf you’ve seen with Hawke at the Bone Pit, told me what happened. You…went to the Hanged Man. Stood in the common room and yelled until he’d come down the stairs. You accused him of setting the Templars on me…because of what happened earlier. What did happen?”

“You never told me he was at Ostagar. He finally recognized me, threatened to turn me in so I threatened to let Brosca know where a deserter was. That dwarf doesn’t give a damn about me but you can bet your boots he’d be up here in a heartbeat to investigate.”

“Yes, I suppose he would,” Anders said quietly. He crawled over and sat with his legs crossed next to him. Anders pulled the blanket up to his chin, tucking the edges around his arms and sat staring at his lap before continuing. “You called him several things, lowlife, cowardly…an entitled son of a bitch who isn’t man enough to attack a drunken whore.”

“That’s when he tried to cut me in half I’ll bet,” he said with a wince.

“Not very smart after losing his mother a few weeks ago,” Anders said finally looking over at him. “Especially not after confessing your love for a dangerous apostate in the middle of the Hanged Man. The whole of Kirkwall likely knows by now.”

Alistair shrugged and stared at the ceiling. “I won’t deny it.”

“How can you feel that way? I would have killed you!”

“I don’t believe that,” Alistair said softly. “ _You_ have done nothing but help.”

“I’m a monster! I can’t control him! First that frightened girl that we were trying to help and you…I can’t trust myself…”

“Do you love me?” he asked seriously.

“Yes,” said Anders in a terrified whisper. “I shouldn’t…I have no right to…I’ll just end up hurting you but…Maker help me…yes.”

“I’m not a defenseless little girl,” Alistair said reaching up to cup his cheek. “I was sure you’d hate me.”

“I hate myself,” he said leaning into the touch. “I don’t know what to do…”

“Just lay with me,” Alistair said softly. “We can…figure something out later.”

“This is a horrible idea,” Anders said as he shuffled around to lie on his side facing him. “We shouldn’t even be considering…staying together.”

“A couple of unwanted Wardens propping each other up?” said Alistair with a tiny smile. “What’s so bad about that?”

“You’re terrible sometimes,” he murmured. A tiny smile surfaced and Anders scooted a bit closer.

Alistair sought his hand and threaded their fingers together wondering if he was right, watching the wisp fly in lazy circles above them.


	7. Chapter 7

It was almost a week before Anders would let Alistair out of the shack. Anders had mostly stayed with him and they had long conversations in between bouts of careful cuddling. Hawke was a subject that had been avoided. They had agreed that they would both live in Alistair’s shack. When he was feeling better they would both search through Darktown for another space that would work for Anders clinic.

Alistair had spent most of that week convincing Anders that opening his clinic again was a good idea. The mage was understandably concerned about his passenger turning on a patient. The people who came to him had nowhere else to go however. They could barely afford to eat. The Chantry sanctioned health clinics would be forever out of reach. Alistair wasn’t too worried about Anders getting glowy and scary as he’d never seen it before the Templars had shown up on his doorstep. Making sure Hawke never found out the location of the new clinic would be a good step in preventing that from happening again.

For another week Alistair did little but meander through his shanty town with Anders usually close by. He was certain that he wouldn’t be allowed back into the Bone Pit and he worried about what they would do for coin. The only real skills he had were violence related and the options that gave him were few. Alistair doubted the guard would take him after his very public altercation with Hawke. He seriously doubted that confessing to loving an apostate would help either. That left him with mercenary work that would be extremely hard to do with no equipment.

They had gone back and salvaged what they could from the destroyed clinic. The fighting had reduced most of the furniture to unusable splinters but there were many smaller things that were still in decent shape. Alistair spent a few days helping transfer, herbs, bandages, pots, clothing and all sorts of linen to his now cramped shack. Anders wouldn’t let him lift anything heavier than a pile of sheets and often ordered him to rest between trips.

A few days after the last crate of intact potions was crammed into a corner, Alistair was sitting outside his shack with his shirt draped over his lap. Anders had cut the bandage off and was probing at the scabbed over and mostly healed wound Hawke’s sword had left in his side. It was going to leave a gigantic scar but he was just happy to still be breathing in spite of the stupidity that had caused it. The other Ferelden’s in this little community waved on their way by and he twiddled them in return. His fingers had been unwrapped a couple of days ago and he was still sort of fascinated with bending them.

Anders sat back and aimed a satisfied smile up at him. “You can put your shirt on. There’s no need for the bandage.”

“I still can’t scratch it though can I,” Alistair said gloomily as he pulled his shirt on.

“Best not to,” Anders said sympathetically. He stood and sat on the crate next to Alistair pulling a basket of berries from behind it.

“Where are you getting these things?” asked Alistair grabbing a handful. When his stock of food was gone Anders had begun disappearing every so often, coming back with all sorts of different kinds of food.

“Sundermount and the coast mainly,” said Anders popping one of the plump red orbs into his mouth. “Before I was conscripted I usually charmed my way into someone feeding and housing me. After, we spent so much time in the wilderness I learned how to set snares from Nathaniel and Velanna grudgingly taught us what plants were edible. I need to go gathering again.”

“Take me with,” Alistair said. “We have a few things to talk about and…I sort of miss fresh air.”

“What did you want to talk about?” Anders asked looking at the basket that he was gripping very tightly.

“Mostly what I’m going to do with myself,” he said gently prying a hand loose.

Anders shot him a very small smile and gripped his hand. “All right,” he said after a moment. “It’s still early, let’s go now.”

“Could we camp out?” Alistair asked excitedly. “It’s been ages since I sat at a campfire and slept under the stars.”

“You get excited about the strangest things,” Anders said fondly. His smile grew a bit and he squeezed Alistair’s hand before letting go. “Let’s get a pack.”

Alistair’s excitement didn’t wane as they strolled down the Wounded Coast. They chatted as Anders pointed out things, stopping to dig up a few wild onions as well as some plants he didn’t know the names for. They continued on to Sundermount where Anders set a few snares while Alistair filled a pouch with more of the red berries from a couple of nearby bushes.

With a pack full of plants and magically dried rabbit they sat in front of their fire with stars twinkling overhead. Alistair was content for the moment with a full belly and enjoyable company. He had hardly thought about how he could make coin all day but it was on his mind now. Anders was also quiet, staring into the fire. Alistair sighed and found his hand, threading their fingers together.

“I can’t go back to the Bone Pit,” Alistair said. “Or anywhere else Hawke hangs out frequently.”

“We were never really welcome in Hightown anyway,” Anders said with a half-smile and a shrug.

“No great loss,” said Alistair nodding in agreement. “Neither is the Hanged Man. It seems to be the only place in Lowtown he goes. Not that I really need to be anywhere near a tavern in the first place.”

Anders leaned over and rested his head on Alistair’s shoulder. “Do you have something specific in mind?”

“I’ll need equipment first,” he said softly. “Armor, a shield, a good sword. I’m only really good at fighting. I wouldn’t even have made a decent Templar.”

“I disagree,” Anders said quietly. “I normally hate Templars on principal but…It’s never bothered you. Even…Justice. You’re considerate…you treat me as a person not just another prisoner to kick around.”

“I know what it’s like to have your life dictated,” Alistair said kissing the top of his head. “Granted being a dead king’s illegitimate child isn’t quite the same as being born a mage but…I can sympathize.”

“You weren’t dragged away in chains,” said Anders bitterly. He didn’t move away however.

“No, I wasn’t. I did quite a bit of kicking and screaming though. I was sent to the abbey because the Arlessa resented the rumors that I was Eamon’s bastard. I didn’t get a choice just…sorry we don’t want you anymore. Go be a Templar instead. Duncan…I think he was the only person that treated me as Alistair. The only person who cared about what I wanted.”

“I care…”

“And I’m very glad you do. I might very well be dead by now without your stubborn persistence.”

“That’s not something I’m usually praised for,” said Anders as he sat up straight with a small grin.

“Give me some time,” Alistair said as he turned to face him. “I’ll find another odd thing to compliment you about eventually. Now, about getting me some equipment.”

“We’ll figure something out,” he said confidently. “It’s a good idea anyway if I…”

“Okay, done with that,” Alistair interrupted. “It’s been a wonderful day. Let’s not end it with icky things.”

Anders frowned and nodded after a moment. “So how would you like to end the day,” he asked a little cautiously.

“Snuggling would be nice. Snuggling with no clothes on would be better. Or, I like this one the best, we could undress, have sex under the stars, then snuggle.”

He looked surprised for a moment but it was quickly replaced by an amused smirk and a small chuckle. “The third option has appeal but I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“I won’t be moving much if you’re above me. Your hands pinning me down…slow kisses, gentle thrusting. Please Anders. I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

“Do you know what an ego boost it is that you want my cock more than my arse,” said Anders seriously as he turned to face him. “In most of my…encounters with men I generally ended up bottom.”

Alistair had a pretty good idea why. Some of the rumors he’d heard about the Gallows were horrifying. Everything Anders had told him about this Alrik fellow was equally horrifying. He was sure Ferelden’s circle hadn’t been that bad but something had driven the mages there to demons and blood magic. It was easy to imagine a young Anders seducing a new recruit to get out. Offering his arse because what Templar would ever give a mage that sort of power? That didn’t have anything to do with his preference for bottoming however.

He shrugged and smiled. “I like your arse too I just… _really_ like your cock.”

“Are you sure you just didn’t get used to being used?” Anders asked scooting closer.

“Maybe,” Alistair admitted. “It was the only way I could think of to keep the alcohol flowing and I did get used to it but…it’s different with you.” He reached out and ran a finger along Anders cheek. “You’re so patient…making sure it doesn’t hurt at all…letting me decide how fast or slow…it’s…I can’t explain. Not properly.” His gaze and his hands dropped to his lap and he continued softly, feeling a little ashamed. “This last time I didn’t let anyone touch my bum. Not that I can remember at least.”

“That’s rather sweet,” said Anders lifting his chin with a finger. “Especially considering what drove you to the bar.”

Alistair smiled and shrugged. He held his arms open and after a small shake of his head Anders scooted a little closer, leaning in and moving his arms around Alistair’s chest. He returned the embrace and whispered in his ear, “So can we?”

“You get to keep your shirt,” Anders said earnestly. “If your side starts hurting tell me immediately.”

“Promise,” he replied solemnly.

They moved to their pallet of blankets shedding clothing as they went. They kissed as hands slid across skin. Anders took his time opening him up. One finger then two thrusting inside, crooking to find that spot. Three fingers had Alistair begging and he finally pushed inside. Anders was slow and careful, thrusting as they kissed. Alistair groaned between panting breaths, his cock lying stiff between them, aching to be touched.

His pace didn’t vary even after he’d straightened. His hands were locked on Alistair’s thighs, head thrown back as he undulated. It only took a few strokes when Anders finally gripped his cock. The building tension released, his seed splattering over the shirt he still wore. The mage groaned and Alistair barely heard it over his own gusting breath. Anders pulled out and leaned over him once more, fisting his cock rapidly as they kissed. He added to the mess on Alistair’s shirt with a grunt.

When Anders had caught his breath he produced a rag from a coat pocket and made a few token swipes at their spend covering Alistair’s shirt before collapsing to his right. He molded himself to Alistair’s side, head resting on his shoulder as he pulled a blanket over them. Anders’ breathing quickly became even. His fingers resting on his chest didn’t twitch. The mage was peaceful for the first time in weeks. Alistair was hopeful that they could continue to help each other. He fell asleep holding Anders tightly against him.

Anders was the first awake as usual but they spent a bit of time cuddling under the blanket and talking. It was after they had gotten up to dress that they noticed a greasy black plume of smoke rising from Kirkwall.


	8. Chapter 8

They made their way back into Kirkwall the same way they’d left. Anders seemed to know the tunnels that coiled everywhere under the city very well. Darktown was full to bursting when they finally made it back. There were many Lowtowners and quite a few people who looked like they belonged in Hightown. Alistair didn’t like it one bit and if his deep frown and furrowed brows were anything to go by, neither did Anders.

“What are they all doing here?” the mage asked somewhat angrily. “They don’t belong here.”

“Whatever’s going on up there drove them down here,” Alistair said calmly. He briefly squeezed Anders’ shoulder then pointed to a nearby staircase. “We can get to the docks from there. Shall we go see why we’re being invaded by nobles?”

“I don’t know,” Anders said uncertainly. “You don’t have any weapons and its likely pretty dangerous up there.”

“We could always wait down here for news,” Alistair said. “It might be a good opportunity to find me some weapons though. Not like I have the coin to buy them.”

“As much as I don’t like this I think we’re better off waiting down here,” he replied after a moment of thought. “You won’t be in top shape until your side is completely healed. We can always go scavenging when all these blighted fools go back to Hightown.”

“Home it is,” said Alistair amiably. “Maybe Jansen or one of the others knows what’s going on.”

Getting home took a ridiculous amount of time. Pushing their way through the throngs of people had given them a general idea of what was going on above them however. The Qunari had apparently had enough of Kirkwall. Many said they were rampaging through the city randomly burning and killing. From his own experiences Alistair doubted the strikes were random. Sten had been an odd sort but he had a strange sense of honor.

The miners had no idea what was going on in the city. They had gotten back from the Bone Pit yesterday night and an hour or so later Darktown was a mass of milling people that would normally not deign to admit the Undercity even existed. The day was well into evening before the nobles cleared out. Anders didn’t seem too eager to go up after nightfall and Alistair didn’t press the issue. He woke before the mage after a restless night however.

Alistair gently extricated himself from Anders’ arms and dressed quietly. He stood looking over the sleeping man, kneeling after a moment to pull the blanket up under his chin. Silently he left the shack after a grabbing a handful of berries and a chunk of dried rabbit. He sat on the crate outside eating his makeshift breakfast and watching the activity around him.

Apparently even an invasion only put the mining on hold as long as there was active fighting. With the city likely in chaos above them Jansen and the others were getting ready for a long day underground like the previous day didn’t happen. They waved on the way out and Alistair waved back, disgusted with their bosses. He was also a little worried about how he was going to support himself. There wouldn’t likely be many opportunities for mercenary work with half of the city needing repairs.

Licking berry juice and grease from his fingers he watched the exodus of people. Alistair wiped his hands on his trousers and sighed as he stood, wondering if he should wake Anders or let him sleep. He turned to go back into his home but stopped when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A dwarf was coming towards him. Alistair turned back and watched him approach, thinking this dwarf was familiar.

As he walked closer Alistair was positive this was the dwarf he’d seen with Hawke many times at the Bone Pit. His weapon was unique and easily recognizable. He scanned the area quickly and saw nothing else was amiss. Alistair planted himself in front of the door to his shack and wished he had a sword as he watched the dwarf approach.

“You must be Varric,” Alistair said cautiously when he stood in front of him.

“That’s me,” he said wearily. “It’s nice to see you a little more upright.”

“Thanks for that,” said Alistair earnestly. “Though I can’t imagine why you dragged me back down here. Being in Hawke’s…inner circle and all.”

“Let’s just say I have a soft spot for Blondie,” Varric said sitting heavily on the crate. “Is Anders here?”

“He’s sleeping,” Alistair said after a moment’s debate. He pulled over another crate and sat across from Varric, the door to his shack between them. “Forgive my rudeness but…what do you want?”

“Warn you both to avoid Hawke,” Varric sighed heavily. “And to let Blondie know that I can’t pass him information for a while.”

“We were planning on avoiding Hawke,” he said. “He turned Anders in and threatened to turn me in for desertion.”

“Let’s not forget trying to kill you,” said Varric drily.

“I brought that on myself,” Alistair said leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees.

Varric snorted in amusement then scrubbed his face. “Hawke has been named Champion of the city.” His voice was as flat as his expressionless face.

Alistair heaved a deep sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Maker’s Breath. He’s going to be insufferable.”

“He was insufferable to begin with,” Varric said irritably. “Now he’s practically untouchable in addition to being arrogant, mean and underhanded.”

Anders wandered out just in time to hear Varric’s last sentence. “Hello Varric. Are you talking about Hawke?” he asked through a yawn while he pulled up another crate next to Alistair.

“Isabela’s gone,” he said grimly after a brusque nod. “Her relic belonged to the Qunari. She ran off with it before this mess started and no one’s seen her. The Arishok killed the Viscount and a few other nobles before we got to the keep. Long story short, they’re clearing out and Hawke was named Champion of Kirkwall for killing the Arishok and rescuing a roomful of Kirkwall’s elite.”

“Andraste’s knickers,” Anders muttered. “Do you have any idea who is going to be made Viscount?”

“No idea,” said Varric shaking his head. “It’s looking like the Knight-Commander is going to step in for a while though.”

“She’s over-stepping her authority,” Alistair said frowning. “Her job is to watch the mages in the Gallows not rule the city of Kirkwall.”

“It’s not surprising at all,” Anders said bitterly. “Her Templars have the Gallows mages too frightened to do anything but obey. Why wouldn’t she set her sights on the rest of Kirkwall?”

Alistair’s frown deepened as the dwarf slowly stood. “Another piece of advice,” said Varric seriously. “Both of you should probably leave Kirkwall but since that’s not likely move to a different part of the Undercity.” He grimaced and waved his hand at Alistair. “Dragging him down here put me on Hawke’s shit list. Hawke has his own network of eyes and ears now.”

“Why do you put up with him Varric?” Anders asked. His brows were pulled down as were the corners of his mouth but his voice was steady. “I know you don’t like him.”

Varric smiled and shrugged. “I can’t disappear. It’s better to know what he’s up to so I don’t end up with that giant sword stuck in _my_ side. It’ll be a while before I can pass anything along.” Anders nodded silently still frowning. “I’m going home. I’ll see you around.”

There were no farewells or slaps on the back. The dwarf simply walked away leaving them with their thoughts. With the added clout of the title of Champion Alistair knew he’d have to be very careful to avoid Hawke. Anders had been avoiding him for months before the first time he’d woke in the clinic so he knew it was possible. The idea of Knight-Commander Meredith ruling the city before a new Viscount could be named was extremely disturbing however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's getting a bit longer than I'd anticipated. =/


	9. Chapter 9

While the city above them picked up the pieces life in the Undercity changed little. Alistair and Anders found a suitable space for a clinic and both of them had moved into it. While Anders continued doing what he had been for years now Alistair foundered. Restless inactivity didn’t suit him and he found himself wanting a drink near constantly. Practicing outside the clinic with his pieced together suit of splintmail and his weapons didn’t take up nearly enough time.

Searching for a purpose and constant nagging in the back of his mind about the Knight-Commander drove him to the Chantry more often than not. Besides taverns it was the best place to hear rumors and listen to the latest news. He knew it was fairly dangerous for him but it was much better than the temptation taverns presented. He spent quite a bit of time tucked into a corner wearing a hooded cloak.

Alistair listened to the soft gossip of the sisters, the worries of the citizens who came to find solace and had even eavesdropped on the Grand Cleric talking with a sort of familiar archer. Everything he’d heard disturbed him. Apparently Varric’s guess that the Knight-Commander would step into the Viscount’s seat had been frighteningly accurate. The conversation he’d overheard between the Grand Cleric and the archer hadn’t been satisfying at all. He didn’t know if Elthina could legally do anything about Meredith overstepping her authority but it seemed that even if she could she wouldn’t.

With no one to even attempt to keep Meredith in check life for any mages in Kirkwall might become worse than it already was. Even with the new location of the clinic word had already spread about where he could be found. Anders wasn’t shy about using his magic. If it was the only way to help someone he didn’t hesitate. Alistair was positive none of the people he helped would betray him but there were other factions to worry about as well.

If the Carta or Coterie decided it was in their best interests to dispose of him they would have no qualms about leaving anonymous tips on where an apostate could be found. His own situation wasn’t much better. Staying away from Hawke, who still wanted his head separated from the rest of him, limited what he could do severely.

The simplest solution would have been simply to leave Kirkwall. Hawke was unlikely to leave and the Knight-Commander would have little sway in a different city. Alistair hadn’t even considered this as a possibility because he knew Anders wouldn’t leave. Despite his worries about Justice Anders was still involved with the Mage Underground. He had told Alistair little about the organization or what they actually did.

Since leaving wasn’t an option and finding a job would be beyond difficult, Alistair had come to a decision. He couldn’t stay idle for much longer and expect to stay sober. Rather than fall back into the pit Anders had pulled him out of, Alistair decided that helping him accomplish his goal was the only option. Part of him balked at the thought of mages being truly free but he refused to listen to the ideals that the Chantry had drilled into his head. His life had been saved not once but twice by apostates.

His course of action determined, Alistair stepped into the clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving this here and calling it done. There could be a lot more story but I really don't want another monstrous fic that's going to take months to finish. I have less time overall to plot out and write and I'm trying to get my WIP's down so I can focus. I think that's been part of my problem lately, too much going on.

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1803253)


End file.
